The Little Superhero (Once Upon A Fandom)
by VoidRomeo
Summary: Steve was small, and skinny, and blonde. He looked like a little angel and he liked to draw and read comics, and think about the army. Nobody suspected him to hang out with people like Tony and Natasha and Thor, but he was probably the most feared person at the orphanage. The worst thing Steve ever did was kill someone. THE LITTLE MERMAID AU (no mermaids tho)


**Thank you for reviewing! Enjoy!**

 **The Little Avenger**

 **Fandom: Marvel**

 **Pairing: Stucky**

 **Disclaimer: THIS DOESN'T ACTUALLY HAVE MERMAIDS.**

 **Ps. Sorry if the characters are ooc and this is very loosely based on The Little Mermaid.**

 **Pps. Bucky's 19 in this fic and Steve's 17.**

Nick Fury, the director of SHIELD Orphanage cracked his knuckles menacingly, and Phil Coulson winced.

"Where. Are. They?" Fury hissed, glaring at Coulson with his one eye. The agent swallowed, clutching his briefcase anxiously.

"I-I don't know, sir," he stuttered. Fury slammed his big fist against his desk, causing the other man to flinch and swallow,

"You're their social worker, for fuck's sake!" the director yelled, "What do ya mean you don't know?!"

"I-I…they didn't c-come to their sessions and I…well…" before Coulson could finish Fury sighed and leaned back in his chair, running a hand down his worn out face,

"Whatever. I'll deal with this myself," he waved a hand at Coulson without looking up, "Scram." The agent didn't need to be told twice as he all but sprinted from the director's office.

This was probably the part when one friend goes 'this is a bad idea, we should go back,' but this was not the case with the SHIELD orphans. As Steven Rogers crept underneath the yellow police tape, his three friends followed with huge smiles on their faces, not one of them willing to return home – not yet.

"Steve!" Anthony Stark hissed, "there's a door right there. Go, before the cops turn around!" he pointed to a dark, blown out hole in the wall.

"That's not a door, idiot," Thor Odinson muttered, "that's a hole."

"Shove a dick in your mouth and shut up." Natasha Romanoff glared at the two boys.

"Shhh, guys," Steve said as he pressed himself to the wall, moving close to the shadows to avoid being seen by the police, who were milling around pointlessly. Just earlier that day there was a robbery in the bank that used to reside in this building. There had been a bomb, and explosions but nobody died because the mysterious Winter Soldier appeared, and saved the day _yet again_. The four orphans couldn't miss a chance for some excitement, so they came here past curfew. They knew Fury would have their heads for this, but right now they were too busy sneaking around to think about that.

And who could blame them?

They were seventeen, bored and well…orphaned. They felt the need to rebel against everything and anything, no matter how big and petty. Everyone at the Orphanage knew better than to try and stop them. Steve assumed that part of the reason why none of them have ever been adopted was because of their criminal records and general behaviour.

Natasha was easily the prettiest girl at the Orphanage, with her short red curls, curvy body and sharp Russian tounge. But everyone knew better than to go for her, not with her three friends always around. In all honesty, Steve knew that the girl could protect herself better than him and his friends combined. The worst thing Natasha has ever done was steal a gun, though she never shot it.

Tony was a brainiac, which didn't stop him from being tall and handsome and flirty. He had girls hanging off his arms whenever he went, and he was not allowed to have a female social worker, because…well, he tended to sleep with them. He smoked and drank but didn't do drugs because he said they hurt his head. The worst thing Tony ever did was break into the army secret files and blackmail them, though he never used the information.

Thor was a foreigner. Nobody quite knew where he was from, but nobody dared to ask. Although Thor looked like a giant who could crush you with his hand, he was actually a massive sweetheart. The worst thing he ever did was beat someone up, but he never killed anybody.

And then there was Steve. Steve was small, and skinny, and blonde. He looked like a little angel and he liked to draw and read comics, and think about the army. Nobody suspected him to hang out with people like Tony and Natasha and Thor, but he was probably the most feared person at the orphanage. The worst thing Steve ever did was kill someone.

"Dude's like a superhero," Steve said in awe as the group stepped into the now abandoned building. It was dark inside, and there were stains on the walls, like smoke and blood. It stank and Thor coughed when he got a mouthful of dust.

"Ew," Tony muttered, stepping over a bloody patch on the floor. Steve circled the room and observed the destruction. The ceiling looked scarily unsteady but that just added a thrill to the whole thing. Tentatively, Steve reached out a hand to touch the cold, stone wall. His palm was freakishly pale against the bricks, and he quickly snatched it away. He hated he was so small and sickly, it prevented him from being the one thing he wanted to be – a hero. Not necessarily a superhero, he'd love to be a doctor, a paramedic, someone who saves life. But he couldn't be, because his own life needed saving. He couldn't even take care of himself.

"Steve you alright?" Natasha asked, walking up to him and placing a hand on his shoulder. She was taller than him.

"I'm fine Nat," Steve smiled at his best friend and turned to the group, "Well who wants to go upstairs?"

They climbed up the creaking staircase, and avoided the holes blown in the steps. Tony flipped on the light on his phone to guide them through the maze of blackened corridors, but it didn't help when he stepped into something soft and squishy. The group entered another room. One of the walls was nothing more than a crumbled mess, with police tape surrounding it. All the windows were smashed, letting in the chill. Natasha shivered and wrapped her leather jacket tighter around herself. Thor nudged a piece of glass on the floor with his shoes. It was stained with blood,

"The Winter Soldier really messed these guys up, ey?" he asked with a grin.

"Yeah, he's in hospital, guarded by police twenty four seven," Steve said, running his slim fingers over the jagged edges of a window. Natasha roughly grabbed him by the back of his hoodie and yanked him away from the window,

"You idiot, there's police downstairs," Tony hissed, "do you want to be caught, _again_?!"

"Sorry, sorry," Steve raised his hands in surrender. He trailed away from his friends into a smaller room, wandering about the Winter Soldier and where he was now, his identity and how he escaped the burning building. The answer to his last question was granted when he peered through the single window in the room, which led down to a low roof. _So he jumped_ , Steve thought, absentmindedly fingering the shards of glass remaining in the frame of the window. They were stained red.

He was about to go back to the main room and tell the others that they should get back, when he heard a lot of commotion and shouting. On instinct, he crouched down, biting down on his lip. He could hear Natasha arguing, and Tony shouting and some men yelling at them. Police.

Without a second though Steve raced to the window and began to push his small body through the frame. He was on the windowsill on the other side, wondering which angle was the best to jump at when the door to the room burst open and an officer barged in,

"Don't move kid!" he yelled, but it was too late as Steve was already jumping. For a second he was sailing through the air, like a bird, his arms outstretched. Then he slammed into the roof, landing on his feet. His knees crumbled at the impact. By the time he got back to his feet the window was empty, the officer racing down to, no doubt, arrest him. He could see Natasha, Thor and Tony being forced into a police cruiser, but he didn't stick around to see them get escorted back to the orphanage. Instead, his attention was on the rusty red decorating the roof in splatters, reflecting the moonlight. He read enough comics to know that it was blood, and that whoever it belonged to was injured. He followed the trail like any sane person would.

Steve was ready to give up. It was getting very, very late and he was cold, his hoodie not shielding his skinny frame from the cutting wind. He had to jump numerous times from roof to roof, lost the trail and couple of times, and eventually found himself back on the ground, following the bloody trail in a maze of alleyways, the light from his phone the only thing to guide him. His lungs struggled for breath, and he had to take a few pumps out of his asthma pump.

When his breathing returned to normal, Steve found himself in a particularly nasty alleyway. He yawned, shivered and decided to turn around. He hadn't made it two steps when he heard something rattle by the overflowing dustbins, followed by a groan and quiet swearing in what sounded a lot like Natasha's language. Steve froze, and then slowly turned around. There between two bins, barely noticeable in the shadows was the silhouette of a man, hunched over in pain.

"I-erm, a-are you okay?" the blonde asked hesitantly, suddenly afraid. He ignored the hammering of his heart and stepped forward. He slowly took out his phone and shone it at the figure.

"Shit kid, put that down you're hurting my eyes," the man grumbled, shielding his face.

"I'm not a kid." Steve protested, fumbling with his phone and finally managed to shroud the alley in darkness, "do you need help?"

"I'm fine." The man said gruffly, and proceeded to hiss in pain. Steve started forward and knelt down next to him,

"You're not fine, you're hurt," he said firmly, "here let me…" he reached for the man but he flinched away, right into the patch of moonlight on the wall. Steve gasped and scurried away. The man had long, tangled brown hair and blue – grey eyes. He had a metal suit on with brown leather straps and a red star on his shoulder. The lower half of his face was covered with a metal mask.

"Y-you're the W-Winter soldier!" Steve gasped, pointing. The man let out an unamused laugh, which ended in a ragged cough.

"Yeah." He closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall. That's when Steve finally saw the messily patched up wound on the Winter Soldier's side, which was oozing blood lazily.

"Hey, hey!" he called to the man. The Winter Soldier cracked one eye open,

"What?" he asked weakly. Steve didn't bother to answer as reached towards him with trembling hands. He gently unwound the dirty cloth from the Winter Soldier's body, ignoring the hiss of pain that elicited from the man, he didn't make a move to stop him. Steve wished he was the one that carried bandages and painkillers instead of Natasha. He threw the dirty cloth to the side and observed the wound, ignoring the nausea that rose in his throat as he saw the dark bloody oozing out of an uneven, jagged cut. He suddenly understood where the blood on the glass came from. Steve looked around helplessly for something that he could dress the wound with, and finding nothing he pulled off his hoodie and his white school shirt, ignoring the biting wind and the blush rising on his pale chest, thankful that the Winter Soldier's eyes were screwed shut and that it was dark, so he couldn't see Steve's ribs, pressed tight against his skin. He put hid hoodie back on hastily,

"This might hurt." Steve warned in a trembling voice, balling his shirt up into a ball and pressing it against the wound, hard. The other man gritted his teeth in pain but didn't scream out. Steve watched mesmerized as red soaked his pristine shirt, but he realised that that wasn't going to save the man, "We need to call the ambulance," he said. The Winter Soldier opened his mouth to protest, but then closed it, and gave Steve a tight nod.

"T-take my mask. And, ugh, the suit." The hero weakly reached for a bag that was lying next to me, "help me change. I don't want them to find out who I am." He added in a whisper. Steve quickly unzipped the bag and pulled out a shirt and a pair of jeans. The next few minutes drained Steve completely. He had to take off The Winter Soldier's suit piece by piece, at the same time trying to stop the blood from flowing. The older man could barely move and Steve had a hard time putting the clean clothes back on him. His arms ached and it was hard to do that in the dark. Finally the man was dressed like a civilian and Steve packed his own bloodied shirt and the pieces of The Winter Soldier's armour into the bag,

"Gimme your mask," he said tiredly, wiping his bloodied hands on his hoodie. The Winter Soldier hesitated for a second, but then reached up and took his mask off. An unfamiliar and unwanted something twisted Steve's insides and his heartbeat sped up, blood rushing to his face. The Winter Soldier passed him the mask, oblivious to Steve's reaction. Of course the hero had to be gorgeous, they always were. Steve shook it off, threw the mask into the bag, zipped it up and pulled out his phone, dialling 911.

"Hello? I erm…ambulance please…" Steve murmured tiredly, "to…" he glanced around and spotted a sign, "24 Shaftsbury Avenue. Yeah…yeah. Um, he's like, erm…bleeding. Like a l-lot…no, I just found him. He's like falling a-asleep…erm," he turned to the Winter Soldier, covering the speaker, "What's your name?"

"Bucky." The man whispered, his breath shallow. He frowned to himself and shook his head, "no. Um, James. James Barnes." Steve repeated the name into the phone, ignoring his fluttering heartbeat. The Winter Soldier had a name, and he trusted Steve, a complete stranger, enough to give it to him. The operator promised that they would send an ambulance as soon as possible. The next few minutes dragged on. Steve tried to keep James awake, blabbering to him about everything and nothing, his small hands pressing down onto the shirt that covered the other boys wound.

"You'll be okay. They're on their way, it's okay. See? H-hey! Open your eyes, what colour are they? They're like blue grey something. I um, please don't die. I hate dead bodies they make me feel s-sick," James wasn't reacting to his words, so Steve desperately reached for his hand with his own bloodied one, and squeezed. James' eyes fluttered open and he offered Steve a weak smile. They heard the faraway sound of an ambulance, speeding down the dark streets.

"Take-" James coughed, "take the bag, they can't find it." His eyes were tired, but determined.

"O-okay," Steve let go of James' warm hand, and stood up clumsily. He slung the heavy bag over his shoulder and stumbled. The two boys stared at each other for a moment.

"I-um…James…" Steve started, unsure of what to tell the superhero.

"Bucky."

"What?" Steve blinked, confused.

"Call me Bucky."

"Oh…" Steve blushed, and clutched the bag to his chest. He smiled shyly at the other boy. The ambulance was getting closer, "Well, hope you feel better…Bucky."

"Thanks Blondie," Bucky smiled, and closed his eyes. The red and blue lights of the ambulance reflected on the walls of the alley as it sped around the corner. Before Steve could change his mind, he turned on his heel and ran the way he came, with Bucky's bag slamming against his hip.

Steve, Tony, Thor and Natasha were past the point of trying to sneak in and out of windows, and Nick Fury was past the point of leaving people on guard by said windows. He now looked more like a middle aged mother, sitting on a sofa, facing the door. And when Steve stumbled in, at 2am, Fury was right there to welcome him.

"Rogers." Fury smiled, and Steve knew he was screwed, "How nice of you to grace us with your presence. I was getting quite worried, especially since you weren't at my doorstep two hours ago with the rest of your friends. And the police of course." Fury's face shifted into a dark expression, "to your room. Now. You are grounded."

Steve didn't argue, not this time. He was too tired, and the bag he was hiding behind his back – Bucky's bag – was heavy. So he mumbled a 'yes sir' and shuffled up the stairs. He heard Fury sigh behind him.

The second he stepped into the room he and Tony shared, he was assaulted by bodies.

"Where the fuck were you?!" Natasha hissed, punching him in the arm, before putting her arms around him. Tony grinned at him and Thor affectionately ruffled his hair.

"I-erm…I, um, got lost," Steve mumbled, trying to hide Bucky's bag behind his small back. He hated lying to his friends.

Unfortunately Natasha saw him move his arm,

"Steve," She said, peering behind him, "Who's bag is that?"

"W-what? N-no one's…" Steve exclaimed, backing away. But he was too slow, in seconds Tony was on him, pinning him to the floor with his weight as Natasha snatched Bucky's bag away.

"Sorry honey," Tony said with a smirk, easily picking Steve up and setting him back on his feet. Natasha opened the bag and gasped.

" _Steven Rogers_ ," she hissed, "why do you have the Winter Soldiers costume?!"

Tony released Steve as he and Thor hurried to take a look. They pulled out the bloodied clothes,

"Guys stop!" Steve said helplessly, "Don't damage it!"

"How did you get this, Steve?" Thor asked, holding Bucky's mask to the light, examining it.

"Does this mean you know the Winter Soldier's real identity?!" Tony gushed, eyes bright.

"Steve answer the questions!" Natasha practically yelled,

"Okay! Okay! Just be quiet!" Steve agreed, peering out into the darkened corridor worriedly.

So Steve told them, about the trek on the roof, following the blood, how he met the Winter Soldier and helped him, called the ambulance. How the Winter Soldier trusted him with his costume. The only thing he left out was Bucky's real identity.

When he'd finished explaining his three friends stared at him blankly for a second. Then Tony burst out laughing, Natasha grinned and Thor said 'nice one, mate.' When they managed to calm Tony down enough for him to talk again, Thor asked,

"So how is he going to get his costume back?"

Steve froze. He hadn't thought about that. If Bucky didn't have his costume, then he wouldn't be able to save anyone. And people would die. Steve nibbled on his lip,

"Don't worry," Natasha placed a hand on his shoulder, "We'll figure something out tomorrow."

"I still can't believe you save the Winter Soldier…," Thor muttered in awe.

Steve was thankful that Natasha was controlling this situation, because he was physically – and mentally – exhausted. Tony switched the light off and the only illumination in the room came from his weird projects that were stacked in the corner.

"Scoot up Thor," Natasha grumbled from the floor, where she and the blonde crashed, too tired to go back to their own rooms.

"Shut up Nat," Tony whispered,

"Don't tell me what to do, Stark!" Natasha hissed,

"Stop arguing," Steve yawned,

"Whatever," Natasha mumbled, "Goodnight Steve."

"Goodnight Nat," Steve said with a small smile, "goodnight Tony."

"Night Steve," Tony mumbled, "night Thor."

"Night Tony," Thor said blissfully, "night Nat. Night Steve."

"Night Thor," Natasha and Steve said at the same time. Then, after a moment,

"Goodnight Tony," Natasha whispered,

"Night Nat."

Bucky returned to his apartment the next morning, all patched up. He had to practically force the hospital to let him return home, but they couldn't keep him anywhere without his consent. So now he stumbled through the front door, his wound aching slightly, but he didn't mind because he was finally home. He hated hospitals.

When the door slammed shut one of his housemates ran out of his room,

"Oh thank Odin, Bucky," Bruce Banner gushed, patting his hands over Bucky's body, "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"I'm okay," Bucky battered the other superhero's hands away, "Seriously. It's just a scratch."

"Where in the world is your costume?" Clint Barton, Bucky's other roommate, asked, leaning on the stairs, Sam, Bucky's best friend, at his side.

"It's a long story," Bucky ran a hand down his face. He tried to not let his worry show, but last night he was so weak and confused that he didn't ask for the guy's name. Or address. Or anything that could tell him where to find the boy and get his costume back.

"Well we spent the entire night worrying about you!" Bruce frowned, "I think you owe us an explanation!"

Bucky collapsed onto their black, leather sofa, and sighed.

"Last night I got hurt."

"We gathered that." Clint rolled his eyes. Bucky gave him a puzzled look,

"The hospital called." Sam explained.

"Oh," Bucky said. Bruce brought him a steaming cup of coffee, "Thanks. Anyway, I got hurt and tried to get home, but I ended up collapsing in some alleyway."

"Why didn't you call us?" Bruce demanded,

"I lost my phone on the way," Bucky explained, "So I was lying in this dark, dirty alleyway, slowly bleeding out, when this…boy, came out of nowhere." Without meaning to, he smiled, remembering the frantic, babbling blonde, "He was really cute as well…"

Clint and Bruce exchange a look, Sam rolled his eyes.

"Not again," he muttered.

"Oi! Focus! You can tell us about your man hunting later," Clint said, snapping his fingers in front of Bucky's face. Bucky cleared his head,

"Yeah so he found me and called the ambulance. And I kind of gave him my suit?" Bucky said cautiously, with an apologetic smile. Clint groaned and Bruce gave him a disbelieving look.

"And let me guess. You have no clue who this boy is?" Clint asked. Bucky shrugged and shook his head, "Great. So this random citizen has your superhero suit! What are we going to do now?! We have a mission tomorrow!"

"Calm down, Clint," Bruce shushed him, "Can you tell us what the boy looked like?"

Bucky frowned, searching through the hazy memories of the night before.

"He was blonde." Bucky said, "And really small and skinny. I think he was wearing a logo of some sorts on his hoodie…"

"Yes! Good!" Bruce smiled, "Okay, what did it look like?" Bucky shrugged, and Bruce's face fell, "Okay, Bucks, how about you go catch up on some sleep and we'll try to find the boy."

"Maybe he has a criminal record, was admitted to hospitals?" Sam offered.

"Thanks guys," Bucky stood up, hugged Bruce with one arm, ruffled Clint's hair and wobbled to his room.

"Why do we always have to do the dirty work?" Clint asked, annoyed.

Bruce didn't reply, instead sat down and began hacking into police records, searching through the millions of young, blonde boys that popped up.

It seemed that the second Bucky's head hit the pillow he was being shaken awake.

"Bucky! We found him!" Bruce's excited voice broke through Bucky's haze of sleep. The man sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes,

"You did?" he asked, and yawned. He seriously doubted it.

"Well…we think so…" Bruce hesitated, pulling his sleeves over his hands, "You better come take a look…"

Sighing Bucky got out of bed and followed Bruce into the living room. He wasn't feeling very optimistic about the whole thing, sure he trusted Bruce and his hacking skills, but there was a slim chance that they could actually find the blonde from the night before.

Bucky should've gotten his fucking name. Guess you don't think about things like that when you're busy dying.

Clint was sitting in front of the laptop, scrolling through pictures and news reports, frowning with Sam next to him, eating ice cream out of the tub.

"Your mystery boy's not an angel," Sam said simply, passing Bucky the laptop. Bucky's eyes focused on the picture at the top of an article. It was a large, vintage building with the words _SHIELD Orphanage_ engraved into a wall. He glanced at Clint. What did this have to do with the guy from last night?

"Just read it," Bruce said, plopping down on the couch and curling around a pillow. Bucky's eyes scanned the page.

 _The four seventeen year olds from SHIELD Orphanage, ran by Nick Fury, have been caught illegally street racing last week. These delinquents have been in trouble many times before, and have been associated with crimes like breaking and entering, theft and street fighting. These kids have one strike left with the police, and if they decide to not obey the rules, they will end up in jail the day they turn eighteen – however for now they will have to perform six months of community service. We had an interview with the Orphanage's agent, Phillip Coulson, and he states that…_

Bucky scrolled past the interview with the agent and froze when he reached the photos of the teenagers. The first one was a girl, who was flipping the camera off, underneath her photograph her name was written – _Natasha Romanoff_. Bucky didn't linger on her, instead quickly checking the next guy. This boy had a stubble and was smirking suggestively at the camera. _Anthony Stark_. Bucky was getting frustrated, he scrolled down even more and his heart skipped a beat when he saw a blond guy. However he quickly realised that it wasn't the boy from before. This guy was way too tall and bulky, with long hair and a friendly smile. He was waving at the camera. _Thor Odinson_ , weird name but who cares. Bucky was close to giving up when he saw the picture of the last boy, and his heart gave a tug.

 _Steven Rogers_.

The boy was looking surprised, the camera catching him off guard. His blonde hair was messy, framing his gorgeous face, and his blue eyes were wide. He somehow managed to pull off the orange jumpsuit. Bucky's heartbeat sped up,

"It's him!" he whispered.

"Told you." Clint grinned and leaned back in his chair.

"I-I need to see him!" Bucky said, grabbing his coat.

"What? Now?!" Bruce asked in disbelief.

"I-yes, yes, right now. I need to…erm, get my costume back!" and with that he was gone.

Bruce and Clint glanced at each other.

"Yeah sure, 'get his costume back' my ass." Sam sighed.

Steve collapsed onto his bed with a groan. He hated community service so fucking much. His arms ached from scrubbing the walls free of graffiti and his lungs hurt because of the asthma attack he got when he was chased down an alleyway by some stray dog.

He had no clue where Tony went, as the boy disappeared right after his service was over, probably running after some girl. Steve laid in bed for a few minutes, staring at the posters on his wall. His heart gave a tug when he glanced at his newspaper clippings about the Winter Soldier. There was a life sized poster of Bucky on his wall, it was just a drawing and it in no way captured the real thing.

Steve sighed again and twisted round, sitting up and pulling Bucky's bag from underneath his bed. He carefully opened it and took out the costume. It was blood soaked and filthy, but Steve didn't want to throw it away. He took out the mask and held it in his hands for a moment – what was he meant to do with it? Frustrated, Steve threw the mask back into the bag and kicked it under the bed.

He took a shower, brushed his teeth and jumped into bed, tired by the day's events. He knew there was no point waiting for Tony, as the boy would probably come back to his room in the morning. With that Steve let his eyes drift shut.

Steve had a pretty deep sleep, but the one thing he couldn't stand was the cold. He organism was weak, and he became ill very easily. That's why the unspoken rule in his dorm room was that the windows stay closed at all times, unless its summer.

The cold air was what woke him, not the footsteps or clattering about. Steve shot up in bed, terrified. He thought it was Tony, but instead he saw a much taller and muscular figure fit in through the window. Tony's bed was still empty.

"W-what the hell?" Steve gasped, pressed up against the wall, holding a pillow protectively in front of his chest. The person grumbled and stumbled around, eventually finding the light switch. Light flooded the room. Steve squeezed his eyes shut, but then opened them carefully. A man stared back at him.

"Bucky?" Steve asked, relief flooding him. He slumped against the wall, "You scared me."

"Sorry." Bucky rubbed the back of his neck nervously as Steve got out of bed, dressed in a long sleeved black shirt and cotton pants. Although most of his body was covered, he felt weirdly exposed. Bucky's gaze lingered on him for a moment, before his eyes snapped up to look at his wall. He looked taken aback.

Suddenly, Steve realised that he just saw posters of himself, all over Steve's wall. The blonde blushed and stared at his feet miserably.

"Didn't know you were a fan…" Bucky said, breaking the silence.

"Yeah, well…" Steve shuffled in place, "Erm, why are you here?" he asked, looking up from under his eyelashes.

"I…" Bucky stared at him. Then he shook his head and looked elsewhere, "I came to get my stuff back."

"Oh!" Steve exclaimed, "Oh! Of course, sorry, my bad, let me get it for you!"

Steve got down onto his knees and reached under the bed, pulling Bucky's bag out. The Winter Soldier flushed and tried not to stare at Steve's butt, and he failed miserably.

"Here," Steve handed Bucky the bag, struggling with its weight. Bucky took it from him, and was about to say something when they heard voices from down the corridor.

"That is the last straw Stark!" Fury yelled angrily, voice muffled by the walls.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Tony answered sheepishly, although you could hear the smirk in his voice.

"You have to go!" Steve whispered to Bucky, pushing him towards the window, dread feeling his body. How was he going to explain this to Fury?!

"Thanks," Bucky said. Then he quickly wrapped a strong arm around Steve's waist, pulling him close. He placed a kiss on Steve's forehead, and before the blonde could react, he gracefully jumped out of the window. Just in time as well, because precisely then the doors burst open and Fury stepped in, dragging Tony in by the ear.

"Rogers! What are you up to, eh? Why are you not asleep?!" the director demanded.

"I heard the ruckus you two were making," Steve said, still baffled by Bucky's actions, "I'm going to sleep." He added, jumping back under the covers.

"We will talk tomorrow, Stark!" Fury fumed, "Goodnight boys." And he walked out, slamming the door shut behind him.

"Phew!" Tony smirked, falling onto his bed.

"What did you do this time?" Steve asked,

"Nothing. Just might have sneaked into Pepper Pott's room and made out with her a little bit."

"Yuck," Steve said, with a fond smile as his eyes fluttered shut.

"I'm telling you, she's the one Stevie," Tony said dreamily, "Why were you really up?"

"No reason," Steve mumbled, feeling tiredness overwhelm him as he thought of Bucky and the way his lips felt on his forehead. His hand absentmindedly reached up to brush the skin there.

"Seriously?" Tony inquired. Steve was almost asleep,

"Yeah nothing happened. Bucky came and took his bag. Yeah, nothing…" Steve murmured and then he fell asleep.

"Tony what the hell do you mean?!" Natasha demanded in a hushed voice over her bacon and eggs. She turned to Steve, "Is this true?!"

Steve shrugged and continued nibbling on his peanut butter and jelly toast.

"The Winter Soldier came to you room last night?" Thor confirmed. Steve nodded, a small smile on his face.

"Why did I miss it?!" Tony groaned, tinkering with some mechanical device, his bowl of porridge untouched on the side.

"Because you were making out with _Pepper Potts_." Natasha pulled a face, glancing at the ginger two tables down.

"You gonna eat that?" Thor asked, pointing at Tony's porridge. In reply Tony elbowed the bowl towards Thor who happily dug in. Steve put his toast down as Natasha continued with her interrogation.

"So he just popped into your room, grabbed his stuff and left?!" she asked. Steve nodded, avoiding eye contact with her. He knew he was a bad liar, but he couldn't mention the forehead kiss to her, or to anyone. He wanted to keep it a little secret.

"I need to see him again," he finally spoke up. His friends froze, Thor with a spoon halfway to his mouth.

"How?" he asked.

"You know you can't!" Natasha added,

"You don't even know his name," Tony finished, returning to his mini machine.

"James." Steve blurted out, and blushed.

"James what?" Tony asked, peering at him suspiciously. Steve gulped,

"James Barnes…" he offered weakly.

Tony whipped out his mini laptop out of nowhere and started typing something on it furiously. Thor peered over his shoulder,

"Got him," Tony grinned after a second, "James Buchanan Barnes is the son of a famous inventor Bradley Barnes. He has earned many honours as a soldier, even at his young age of nineteen…"

"Can you get his address?" Natasha asked, leaning across the table. Tony flicked through some files as the rest of the orphans began to file out into the hallway and went off to their lessons. Before Tony could get anything up Fury stepped into the room, followed by Phil Coulson.

"You four. Community Service, now." Fury directed. He pulled Tony's laptop out of his hands, ignoring the outraged noise the boy made, "Didn't I confiscate this last week Stark?"

"Yeah you did. So?" Tony asked crossing his arms over his chest. Fury smirked,

"I'll make sure to change the locks. Now off you go," he shooed the four teenagers off.

"They could at least change the colour," Tony complained, wrinkling his nose at the orange jumpsuit as he typed something into his phone. Thor was picking rubbish up with a stick and flicking it into a container as Natasha squatted in the corner in her underwear, changing the writing on her jumpsuit from _Community Payback_ to _Community Blowback_. Steve was leaning on his picking garbage up stick, staring into the distance, thinking about the way Bucky's lips felt against his forehead and how they would feel against his lips…

"Fuck they changed the password." Tony cursed, and then gasped, "Oh hell no, now Fury's somehow blocked my phone. Oh, so you wanna play? Fuck him man, I can't do anything until I get my laptop back." He said, defeated.

"He ain't gonna give it back to you," Thor pointed out, plopping on the ground, "Not after that ham incident."

"That was _one_ time!" Tony groaned.

"So what? You can't get his address?" Steve asked, worried. Tony shrugged,

"Not unless I get my laptop back."

"Well we're getting it back!" Steve said with a new found determination.

"Where is he?" Steve muttered frustrated. Natasha, Thor and he were crouched in his and Tony's room. The lights were switched off and they were peering out of the window, into the darkness of the night.

"Calm down," Natasha hissed, "He's on it!"

Steve huffed and shut up as they watched for any movement. Nothing happened for a few minutes and Steve was getting restless when there was a sudden bright flash, and high pitched noises rang through his skull. Outside they could see Tony, grinning with a pair of protective goggled on top of his messy hair. He watched as enhanced fireworks lit up the night sky, breaking up into inappropriate images. A shimmering blue FUCK YOU MR FURY burst out across the night sky.

"STARK!" Fury roared, running out into the courtyard, followed by a dozen kids and teenagers who laughed and cheered at the display. Tony started sprinting away from the Orphanage, with Fury hot on his heels.

"That's out cue! Go, go, go!" Natasha hissed, pushing Thor. The three got to their feet and stumbled out of the room and through people hurrying to see what the commotion outside was about.

The three went down a familiar corridor that led to Fury's office. Thor pulled a hair pin out of his long hair and handed it to Steve, who began twisting and turning it in the lock, until he heard a satisfying click and the doors gave way.

Natasha flipped on the lights and they illuminated the mess that was Fury's office. There were papers and books stacked on every surface as well as the floor, but the teens weren't paying attention to it, instead opening cupboards and shelves, looking for Tony's laptop. Steve shuffled through Fury's papers like his life depended on it, and something caught his eye.

It was a simple black leaflet with the word 'Want to make your dreams come true?' written on it in white. Underneath it was an address. Steve nibbled on his lip.

"Got it!" Natasha yelled. She pulled the laptop off one of the shelves and Thor quickly replaced it with a decoy. Steve grabbed the leaflet impulsively and stuffed it into his pocket.

"Great let's get out of here!" he prompted and everyone ran out. The door locked automatically behind them and they were back in Tony's and Steve's room in less than a minute.

Natasha shoved Tony's laptop under his pillow, and then pulled Thor into the closet. They've done this a million times, and Steve waited patiently until he heard footsteps down the corridor. Tony burst into the room, looking creepily happy, and Fury followed closely behind him.

"Stark you are in big trouble boy, extra four months of community service."

"Four?!" Tony whined, "What did I doooo?"

"You were in Pepper Pott's room and you set off fireworks, disrupting lights out. You're lucky I'm in a good mood and I won't give you more time for owning explosives. Report for detention tomorrow. Goodnight." And with a swish of his long cloak, Fury left. Tony turned to Steve,

"Did it work?" he asked, pushing the goggles up from where they were falling over his nose. Steve pulled Tony's laptop out from under his pillow and smiled. At the same time Thor and Natasha tumbled out from the closet, landing in a heap on the floor. Tony raised an eyebrow,

"Coming out guys? Bout time."

"Shut up Stark," Natasha glared at him.

"How was Narnia?" Tony teased. Natasha threw Steve's bunny slipper at him. The whole group burst into laughter as they piled onto Tony's bed. Steve passed the laptop to its owner and Tony kissed the lid affectionately,

"My baby," he cooed. Natasha hit him at the back of his head,

"Hurry up, we don't have all night."

Tony stuck his tongue out at her but turned on his laptop, scrolling through his saved pages. He then proceeded to break a few codes and type in weird words and Steve was past trying to understand what Tony was doing.

Then a page with personal information came up, with a few pictures.

"That's him?!" Natasha asked in disbelief, pointing at a guy with short, black hair, "Damn. He's cute."

"No…" Steve shook his head, "That's him." He pointed a shaking finger at a picture of Bucky carrying groceries. He wore a black and white flannel over a tank top and loose jeans. His hair was in a short ponytail. Steve exhaled, feeling his heartbeat pick up.

"Wow, he's cute as well," Natasha admired, leaning forward.

"Nat he's taken. Steve here called dibs on him," Thor grinned at the blonde, who blushed.

"I-I never, no…I um…" Steve stuttered.

"Nat, post – it – note please," Tony spoke over Steve. Natasha passed him the note and Tony scribbled something down, "That's the address, don't lose it." He passed the note to Steve and then proceeded to double clear his history. He shut down the laptop and yawned,

"Alright off to bed kids," he muttered, knocking Thor of the bed. Grumbling the tall blonde got up. Natasha kissed Steve on the cheek and ruffled Tony's hair,

"Okay goodnight idiots," she said and flounced out of the room after Thor. Steve stared at Bucky's address.

"What now?" Tony asked after a moment of silence. Steve shrugged and stuffed the note under his pillow.

It took Steve days. Days. Days of worrying and thinking, sleepless nights, staring at his posters of Bucky, two panic attacks and an asthma attack. That's what it took, and Steve was exhausted. That's why he did it. It was a free Saturday and the gang was heading to town to do some shopping. Thor wanted to stock up on snacks, Tony ran out of explosives and some weird type of wires, and Natasha wanted to get new high heels. Steve had to buy a new hoodie since his old one had blood on it.

The four made their way to town by bus and did what they did best – messed about. Natasha got into a dance battle with a street performer, Thor graffiti 'Fuck the Police' on an alleyway wall and Tony got three girls' numbers. Steve was out of it and his three best friends realized.

"What's wrong?" Thor asked when they were in McDonalds.

"Yeah, you're acting weird," Tony added, sipping his coffee. Steve shrugged,

"Guys I need to run a quick errand," he said, suddenly making up his mind. His friends exchanged a look.

"Erm okay, want us to come with you…?" before Thor could finish Steve was on his feet, sprinting through the square. When he was well out of his friends' eyesight he stopped to catch his breath and took one puff from his asthma pump. He then pulled out the now crumpled leaflet and glanced at the address. He knew where it was – close by.

Steve hurried through the busy streets, pushing past people, muttering 'sorries' and 'excuse me's' as he went. When he turned up at the address he was close to collapsing. He was now in the dodgy part of the town, on an estate. The buildings were dirty and water stained, the curtains and blinds shut on every window. A group of drunks stood in the corner, sharing a vodka flask in broad daylight.

Steve moved past them, ignoring their calls and whistling. They were too drunk to make it to him anyway. He glanced at the numbed on the paper and saw a black door with the number on it. 6. He quickly went over to it and knocked.

Nothing happened.

He knocked again, and nobody opened. One of the drunks was getting dangerously close, shouting out 'hey blondie!,' so Steve pushed at the door. To his surprise it swung open and the smell of rotten fruit and perfume hit his nose. He coughed and covered his face with his sleeve. A set of steps led down to what he assumed was a basement. With a deep breath Steve stepped inside, letting the doors swing shut behind him, and he was enveloped in darkness.

Steve pressed his palms flat against the narrow walls of the staircase, feeling the rough brick brush his hands. He tried to steady his breath even as he felt panic build up inside his chest. This was a ridiculous idea, why did he ever think this was a good idea?!

Steve's heart jumped in his throat when his foot accidently missed a step, and he was sent flying down the long staircase. He crashed into the floor with a loud bang and pain exploded through his skinny body.

He was blinded by millions of lights that suddenly flared above his head. Steve pressed his face against the cold, metal floor and squeezed his eyes shut. After a moment he slowly opened them, and got to his feet, ignoring the pain coursing through his body.

He was now in a long, pristine corridor, made of shimmering silver metal. It stretched on for ages, and there was an oval door at the end. The staircase was nothing but a black hole in the wall, full of shadows.

 _Come on in._

A voice rang through Steve's head, and he almost crumbled to his knees again. This all felt surreal and his heart was beating way too fast in his heart, and yet he felt more calm than ever.

He collected himself and walked over to the oval door. He reached out to turn the handle but the door opened by itself, revealing a massive room like an auditorium.

There was a narrow bridge that led to the middle of the room where a woman sat with his back to him, a metal contraption over her head. All around her lights exploded in the air, coloured red and white.

"How lovely to see you Steven Rogers," the woman whispered, and her voice made Steve shiver in fear and something else.

"W-who are you?" he asked. The woman placed the metal contraption to the side and stood up. She was graceful and lean and taller than Steve, with flowing red curls. She faced Steve and he felt a jolt when he saw her eyes – they were completely black, like a demon, but she was smiling warmly at him.

"My name is Jean Gray, and I am here to help you."

"Y-you can help me?" Steve asked, twisting his hands together and looking around. Jean didn't reply, only came up to him and placed a hand under his chin. As soon as their skin touched Steve fell to his knees overwhelmed by memories.

 _He saw himself, much younger than he was now, thirteen, holding a gun in a shaking hand, pointing it at someone he knew too well._

" _You won't do it. You're too weak, always were!" the man laughed, taking a swig out of a vodka bottle._

" _I won't do it, if you let us go," Steve hissed, his voice steady. His free hand came to steady his other one._

" _Fine." The man spat, "Go. I don't care about you anyway." and he threw his bottle, shattering it at Steve's feet._

" _C'mon," Steve whispered, "Mamma_ _ **come on**_ _!" A woman dashed through the room, there was a bruise under her eye and blood trickled from her nose, "We're leaving." Steve said as she clung onto him, sobbing. The man didn't respond, muttering to himself, "Dad we're leaving."_

 _Again, the man ignored him. Steve glanced at his mother and then grabbed her hand, lowering his gun. They turned their back onto Steve's father, and that was a mistake._

" _You can go but she's not coming." The man hissed, and lunged at the two, the sharp point of a knife embedding itself in Steve's mothers back. The boy screamed, and fired, shooting at his father._

 _Neither of Steve's parents lived to see the morning._

Steve gasped and pushed away from Jean, tears welling in his eyes. He still saw the way the light went out of his mother's eyes, later in the hospital, and felt her hand slump in his.

For months after that he battled with an eating disorder and depression and grew weaker than he already was. And now here he was – hating himself.

"Interesting," Jean said, "Very, very interesting."

"What about that is interesting?!" Steve yelled. Jean gave him a sad look,

"You thought that if you were stronger you could've saved her. Protected her. You could've left without him hurting her. How different would your life be then? No orphanages, no community service, no dreams of being someone you're not." Steve looked down in shame, his cheeks colouring – she was right. His mother died because he wasn't strong enough, "Is that what you want?" Jean asked, "To be a hero? To be strong? To protect innocent lives. To be like The Winter Soldier?"

"Yes." Steve whispered, without hesitation. Jean nodded,

"Are you willing to give things up for this?" she asked. Steve nodded again. Jean led the boy to the chair she was previously sat on.

"This," she lifted the contraption, "Will make you what you always wanted. You will be strong and powerful, you will be able to protect people from harm."

"I'll do it!" Steve said, barely able to contain his excitement.

"However," Jean's voice chilled Steve's bones, "There is a price, are you prepared to pay it?"

"Yes."

"You will become a hero, but your memories will be taken away." Jean whispered into his ear, "The good, the bad. The beautiful, the ugly, all of them. You won't remember your name, who you were, who you are."

Steve gulped, feeling his head spin.

"And you will have three weeks to seek out the Winter Soldier, and make him fall in love with you. If you fail you will return to this state of body, and you shall serve me as a slave. Do you agree?"

Steve took a deep breath as a piece of paper appeared in front of him, along with a pen.

"Yes." He whispered and grabbed the pen, quickly signing his name. He heard Jean Gray's cruel laugh as the metal contraption was pushed over his head, and he began to forget.

" _Mamma! Mamma look!" Steve lisped, his chubby legs carrying him across the field towards the comic stand, "Mamma look! Superheroes!"_

 _His mother giggled as she followed him, kneeling down next to him as he stared at the comics in awe._

" _I'm gonna be a superhero one day mamma!" Steve said, puffing his chest out proudly. His mother hugged him,_

" _Of course you will."_

 _Steve came home holding his essay in his hand, the A+ beaming at him from the paper. He skipped into his house and saw his father screaming at his mother, hitting her with his hand. She was crying and bleeding and Steve was confused._

 _His father saw Steve and he spat at his wife, turned on his heel and walked out of the house, pushing past his son. Steve's mother tried to hide her tears and wounds,_

" _How was school, honey?" she asked with a weak smile, wiping the blood off of her face. Steve launched his small body at her, enveloping her in a hug, trying to hold his tears back. He had to be strong – for her._

" _It's okay mamma." He whispered, a silent tear rolling down his cheek as his mother sobbed into his shoulder._

 _The essay laid forgotten on the floor._

 _Steve's 11_ _th_ _birthday. The boy ran around his backyard with his friends, laughing and shooting each other with water guns. It was the best day ever, his mother laughing in the kitchen as his father came over and kissed her on the cheek.  
They brought out the cake and as Steve blew out the candles he wished for it to always be like this. _

_He'd fallen asleep in the hospital chair, curled up in a ball, outside his mother's room. He wanted desperately to see her, but they wouldn't let him. He stayed on the chair, crying and soaked in her blood. Her blood. Police tried to talk to him, but he wouldn't respond._

 _He was awoken by a nurse, a young, kind one. She sneaked him into his mother's room, where he saw her pinned to machines and tubes and it made him sick._

" _A few minutes." The nurse said, and closed the door. Steve came over and held his mother's warm hand, smoothed down her hair. She was asleep and couldn't see him cry silently._

 _And then the beeping intensified and Steve's mother's eyes snapped open and she looked right at him, smiled and then her hand went slack in his grip and her eyes lost its light and Steve was ushered out by the doctors._

 _He promised himself he wouldn't cry. He wouldn't. He didn't cry when he was in court, questioned about his father's murder, he didn't cry at his mother's funeral, he didn't cry when he found out nobody wanted him. He didn't cry when his agent dropped him off at the orphanage, he didn't cry when the scary but kind director showed him round. He didn't cry when he was introduced to his roommate – Tony. And now he was wrapped up in unfamiliar sheets, in an unfamiliar room and he listened to Tony building something in the corner. He had two friends over – a little fierce girl and a tall blonde boy. They were all whispering quietly and Steve listened to their voices._

 _And then he did cry, quietly at first and then more violently as he progressed. He curled up against his pillow, sobbing uncontrollably into the fabric, clutching his hurting heart. He was losing breath fast and the people in the room realized something was wrong. He could hear shouting and things being moved around and then strong but gentle hands were putting him upright, and he couldn't breathe._

 _And then the girls' hand appeared in his blurry vision and she forced his inhaler into his mouth, pressing the pump a few times. The three friends watched worriedly as Steve slowly caught his breath. The boy eventually sniffled, wiped his tears and muttered 'sorry.'_

 _The girl pulled him into her arms and hugged him tight._

" _It's going to be okay." She whispered in her Russian accent. After a moment of hesitation Tony moved to hug both of them. He smelled like chemicals and metal. Thor embraced all three of them with his massive arms, and Steve finally relaxed because he felt safe._

 _The first time they got community service was for a really stupid reason. It was Thor's idea to egg Fury's office but the director really didn't appreciate it so now they had to clean rubbish for a week._

 _It was the most fun Steve has ever had. He was starting to heal, realising that he wasn't to blame for his mother's death. He grew close with Natasha and Tony and Steve and they made him feel wanted, included, loved._

 _Sometimes he got nightmares. He would dream that he had his father at gunpoint, but when he brought himself to pull the trigger it ended up with his mother in a pool of blood on the floor, and his father standing over him, drinking and saying 'you're too weak.'_

 _He woke up screaming or crying, and Tony would look up from whatever he was building and hug him and show him his designs to distract him, and sometimes they'd call Natasha and Thor over using their walkie – talkies and they'd watch an illegally downloaded movie on Tony's mini laptop until they chased Steve's chills away._

 _The first time Steve heard about the Winter Soldier was in a newspaper – a young man saved a woman out of a burning building and delivered the arsonist to the Police's doorstep._

 _Steve was fourteen and a half. And The Winter Soldier became his inspiration, his guidance. Steve got posters of him, newspaper clippings. He drove himself past his limits to become more strong, more fit, more able so he could be like the Soldier. It only ever ended with the need for air and Natasha's hand, passing him his pump._

 _The last memory was of Bucky. Not the night that Bucky almost bled out, and scared Steve half to death. The night that Bucky came to get his suit back. The way his eyes lingered on Steve, the way he smiled. The feel of his lips on his forehead, the grey – blue of his eyes._

 _And just like that the memories were gone._

Nobody woke up with a killer headache, lying on the cold concrete. He groaned and rolled to his side, feeling all his bones and muscles ache. He tried to stand up but his body felt weird and unfamiliar and uncoordinated. He ended up face planting on the floor.

"You alright mate?" a man asked, stumbling over to him. He had a bottle of whiskey in one hand.

"Yeah, yeah, fine," Nobody mumbled and tried to get up, failing miserably, "Could you possibly help me?" He asked. The man nodded, put his bottle down and reached his hand down to him, pulling him to his feet. He staggered and tried to regain his balance, and managed to stay upright.

"Well you're pretty wasted, big guy," The man observed, he offered him the whiskey but Nobody waved him off.

"I'm fine, thanks," His voice felt hoarse, but he stumbled away from the man. Where was he? Who was he? Dark buildings surrounded him and he wore loose jeans and a clean, crisp white shirt. These weren't his – or were they? He couldn't remember anything. Groaning He reached into the pockets of his trousers and pulled out a few things – a small, silver key, a phone that told him that his battery was dead, a post it note with an address scribbled on it, an asthma pump and a black piece of paper. On the paper it said – your dream came true, in white writing.

God, how long was he out? Nobody put all the things back into his pocket and tried to get his bearings. He figured that his best shot was the address. He peered at it and re – read it in his head. He had no idea where it was. He turned around and slowly walked back to the drunk man, who was peering at his now empty bottle.

"E-excuse me," Nobody mumbled, getting the guys' attention.

"Big guy!" The drunk exclaimed happily, Nobody winced.

"Ah, yes," He said, "Could you help me find this address?"

The drunk peered at it and then nodded,

"It's not far from here, twenty minutes' walk on foot, you go straight, left then take another left, follow this road…" the drunk man rambled, and He was surprised that Nobody's mind remembered the directions perfectly.

"Thank you!" He gushed and walked off, the drunk man lifting his hand in a salute.

It was a dark night, but Nobody could see perfectly, he saw a rat run into some bushes, could hear drunken giggling. He picked up his speed and started jogging, and then eventually he was sprinting. Faster than humanly possible – and he wasn't getting tired. That was a sensation new to Nobody, he wondered why he needed the asthma pump.

His brain automatically led him to the address on the paper and in good ten minutes, Nobody arrived at the apartment complex. It was very fancy, with turning doors and a porter guiding the entrance. He glanced at the number on his paper, the top floor.

He hesitantly walked towards the doors, and the porter eyed Nobody suspiciously, but he wasn't stopped. Acting like he knew where he was going, Nobody climbed up the stairs, quickly and swiftly. He observed the luxurious tapestry on the walls and the large windows that looked out onto the shimmering city. He felt his heart in his throat – what would he find in the apartment. A girlfriend? His parents? He had no idea.

Finally, Nobody stood in front of the large double doors that led to the apartment he had to get to. On the door it said 'Room 34 B – James Barnes, Bruce Banner, Clint Barton & Samuel Wilson. He hesitated, reading over the names, but none of them triggered anything in him.

He gathered his courage and raised his fist knocking on the door. Nothing happened. He raised his hand to knock again, but the door swung open before he could.

A man stood in front of Nobody, he had brown hair that was dripping water onto the carpet, and there was a towel wrapped around his waist. Nobody ogled the man's abs and then quickly collected himself, his gaze snapping up to the man's grey – blue eyes. The man raised an eyebrow,

"How can I help?" He asked.

"I-erm, I…um," Nobody stuttered. Now that he thought about it, he had no idea what to say. So he decided to just tell the truth, "I woke up a few minutes ago with no memory of who I am or where I was and this," he raised the post – it note, "was the only thing in my pocket. So…um, I kind of thought you might know me?" He finished meekly.

"I've never seen you before," The man said apologetically, "But you definitely seem familiar."

"Oh…well…" Nobody swayed on his feet, suddenly feeling dizzy.

"Are…Are you okay?" The man asked, concern clear on his face.

"Fine…" Nobody mumbled, and then fell onto the carpet.

"Oh shit." Bucky swore. Bruce walked towards the door,

"What is it?" he glanced over Bucky's shoulder, and his eyes widened, "Bucks, why is there a dead guy outside our door?"

"He's not dead," Bucky huffed, crouching down and checking the guys pulse, "He's just passed out. Come on help me."

Bruce got the idea and grabbed the man under one arm as Bucky took the other,

"He's really heavy," Bruce wheezed as they began to pull him into their apartment.

"I know, have you seen all that muscle, _damn_ ," Bucky agreed. The two men dumped the guy onto their couch and stared at him for a few minutes.

"What the hell do we do with him now?" Bruce asked.

"What the fuck is this?" Clint demanded, racing down the stairs, "Who the fuck is he?!" Clint gestured at the man with his bow.

"I don't know we found him outside," Bucky explained, running a hand down his face. He suddenly felt really tired. He observed the guy; his soft blonde hair that fell over his forehead, his long eyelashes that brushed his cheeks, the bow of his lips. He reminded Bucky of someone.

"Well I'm going to sleep!" Clint said after a long moment of silence.

" _Clint_!" Bruce sighed exasperatedly, "C'mon man, we've got a mission!"

"I can watch over him!" Sam volunteered, coming out of the kitchen with a bowl of instant ramen, "You guys go."

"You sure?" Bucky asked. The man nodded happily, Bucky smiled at him gratefully and brushed the hair off the guy's forehead.

"Don't get too attached Buck," Bruce said.

When Nobody woke up, he was more confused than ever. He remembered speaking to a man, and then…well, that's about it. He couldn't help a groan that escaped him at the pounding in his head.

"Good morning mysterious stranger," A voice called. Nobody sat up quickly and looked around wildly. A lithe man was sitting on a chair opposite the couch he laid on. He was eating cornflakes straight out of the box.

"What time is it?" Nobody asked, running a hand down his face. The man glanced at his phone screen.

"2:03 am." He said, way too cheerfully, "I'm Sam by the way. And who are you?"

"I…um," Nobody sat up, "I can't remember."

"Ah," Sam said casually, "Thought that could be the case. Then what brings you here stranger?"

"I don't know!" He muttered, frustrated. Why couldn't he remember anything?!

"Calm down princess," Another man, or more of a boy, walked into the room in his pyjamas.

"That's Clint," Sam rolled his eyes, "Don't mind him."

"Where's the one with the long hair?" Nobody asked,

"Oh Bucky?" Sam blinked at him, and something sparked in his brain at the mention of the name, but it was gone as soon as it appeared, "He's on a mission."

"Mission?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, he's The Winter Soldier," Sam said as if it explained anything.

Winter Soldier – another phrase that sparked something in his memory.

"SAM!" Clint yelled, "What the hell man?! Want to announce it on national television maybe?!"

"Calm down Clint," Sam said calmly, ignoring the fuming boy, "This dude might as well know. Besides, he could be useful. Look at all that muscle."

Clint wrinkled his nose and threw a towel at Nobody,

"Take a shower. You reek."

He looked at him quizzically and shrugged,

"Where's the bathroom?" he asked. Sam showed him the way,

"Don't use up all the warm water!" Clint practically screamed from the kitchen. Sam rolled his eyes and gave Nobody a gentle push into the bathroom.

The inside was pristine, white and baby blue tiles lined the walls and four toothbrushes sat in a cup, all in different colours. The windowsill was littered with different shampoos and body washes and conditioners and shaving creams and whatnot. A pair of dirty sweats lay in a heap by the sink and one, lone fluffy sock sat by the toilet.

Nobody sighed in frustration and quickly stripped. He turned and caught sight of himself in the mirror.

You'd probably never **not** known your body. You know where you've got curves, where you're flat, you know your measurement and the length of your hair. You know your height and your muscles. Well, Nobody didn't.

He stared at himself in the mirror. His hair and eyes – they seemed familiar. Actually the structure of his face was fine. It was his body. It was bulked up, like he spent hours exercising. He tentatively touched his chest, and it was hard as rock.

He was strong, but it was as if his organism wasn't used to it. And then there was the question of the asthma pump – he could run for a long time, why did he need it then? And how did he end up not remembering anything.

Nobody grabbed a bottle of body wash and sniffed it. He made a face, nope, too strong. He grabbed another bottle but it smelled like cinnamon so he put it back. Who makes cinnamon smelling body washes!?

Eventually he found something that suited him, a nice but subtle smell that made him feel warm, and maybe a little bit like himself, whoever he was.

He stepped into the shower and turned the water on. He scrubbed himself with the body wash, thinking of washing everything away. If all he could get were these annoying triggers that meant nothing, he might as well have a new start. Bucky, the Winter Soldier. What did it mean?

After he couldn't stand it anymore and his fingertips were wrinkled, Nobody finally stepped out. He dried himself off quickly, and tried to avoid the mirror.

And then the door burst open and He found himself naked, face to face with Bucky. The other man was covered in sweat and grime, and he flushed when he saw Nobody, unable to keep his eyes from wandering down the length of His body.

"Ah! I'm sorry!" Bucky yelled, dropped a pile of clothes at Nobody's feet and turned on his heel, slamming the door shut, leaving a blushing Nobody behind.

Nobody locked the door and leaned down and inspected the clothes. He pulled on the simple button down white shirt that was left for him, and a pair of grey sweats alongside it. There was even a pair of fluffy socks laid out for him, and he couldn't help but smile.

When Nobody had finished, he stepped outside cautiously. The corridor was dark, light and voices coming from the living room.

"What should we do with him?"

"Well, we can't kick him out can we?"

"Psshh, yeah we can. What are we? Babysitters?!"

"Be nice, Clint."

"I'm sorry but did you see that body?"

" _Buckyyy_."

"We could have him on the team!"

"He has a family somewhere, searching for him…"

Nobody felt bad for eavesdropping, so he shyly stepped out from the shadowy corridor into the living room. The men present all fell silent as they stared at him. Nobody wrung his hands out nervously,

"I assume you heard that," Bruce said apologetically. He shrugged.

"So what do you want to do?" Sam asked calmly. Nobody looked unsure as he eyed the men. Bucky looked hopeful and it made something inside him warm. Bruce and Sam both looked neutral, and open to suggestions. Clint was glaring but Nobody didn't pay much attention to him. In all honesty he had nowhere to go. All he had was this bloody address, and if he left now…well, God knows what would happen to him.

"I-I think I'd like to stay?" Nobody asked nervously. Bucky whooped and Sam cracked a smile.

"Thanks great," Bruce placed a reassuring hand on his arm, "you can join our team."

"Team?" Steve asked, brow furrowing.

"We're like… superheroes," Clint explained, looking bored, "You know – we save the city, deliver the bad guys to prison and so on."

Nobody's eyes widened as he stared at the group, something nudged him in his brain but he couldn't figure out what. Nobody just knew that the idea of superheroes excited him.

"I'm in." he said, smiling.

"Awesome, we'll see what you can do tomorrow." Sam clapped his hands, "For now we should probably go to sleep, it's gonna be a big day tomorrow."

"Great night guys." Clint waved his hand and disappeared into a room as quickly as he could.

"I'll…take the couch then?" Steve offered.

" _No!_ " Bucky, Sam and Bruce exclaimed at the same time.

"It's like sleeping on a pile of bricks. I don't wish it on anyone, even Hydra."

"Who's Hydra?" He asked.

"Don't worry," Bucky waved him off, "do we have a mattress somewhere?"

"We did…" Bruce nibbled on his lip, "I think Wanda and Pietro nicked it the last time they stayed over."

"Who's Wanda and Pietro?" He asked.

"These two other heroes," Bucky explained, "They go by Quicksilver and Scarlet Witch now, they're old friends."

"Back to the bedding matter…," Bruce prompted,

"Rock, paper, scissors?" Sam offered. Lightning fast, the three heroes hit their fists on the flat of their palms, counting to three under their breaths. In seconds Bruce and Sam were smirking, both holding up fists, and Bucky…was also grinning, although he had scissors.

"Looks like you'll be sleeping in Buck's bed for now," Sam smirked.

"Okay." Nobody shrugged, tugging the sleeves of his shirt over his hands. Bucky led him to his room as Bruce and Sam disappeared behind doors. He entered Bucky's room and looked around. The walls were filled with band posters and a few pictures were taped to the wallpaper – mainly Bucky and his friends, a few of his family. The rest of the room was a mess, clothes strewn all over the floor, leftover plates on different surfaces.

"Sorry it's a mess." Bucky looked embarrassed as he picked a pair of boxes off of the floor, bunching it up in his hands.

"It's okay," Nobody smiled shyly, "Thanks for letting me sleep here."

Bucky stared at him for two seconds and then cleared his throat, looking away and blushing.

"Yeah, well, no problem." The hero muttered. Nobody couldn't help from grinning, and then he saw something that caught his eye. Taped to a computer was a messily cut out photo, as if it was from a newspaper. The boy in it was looking confused, eyes wide. His hair was all over the place and he was wearing a hideous orange jumpsuit. Something about him tugged at something inside him.

"Who's…Who's this?" He asked. Bucky had been pulling out spare covers and pillows.

"Who?" The hero glanced up and his face darkened when he saw Nobody pointing at a picture, "Oh. That's Steven Rogers."

"Is he your boyfriend?" Nobody asked, suddenly nervous. Bucky shook his head, a bit sadly,

"No. He saved my life and we've been trying to find him so I could…I don't know, repay him? We found the Orphanage he was at, but apparently he's gone missing." Buck sounded worried and terrified, and it made him despise the boy from the picture a little bit. It seemed as if Bucky didn't know him at all, and yet the sickly blonde could get so much emotion out of him.

"Yeah, well I hope you find him." He muttered. Bucky smiled,

"Thanks."

After a few minutes of figuring stuff out, Nobody took the side of the wall and Bucky laid down on the other side. Nobody could feel the heat coming off the superhero, laying so close, and his heart was beating too fast in his chest. He had no idea how he was meant to fall asleep like this. The atmosphere in the room was suffocating, the tension clear. He could tell that Bucky was uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry." Nobody said to break the silence. Bucky turned, dipping the mattress, to face the stranger.

"What for?" he asked frowning. He shrugged,

"For causing you trouble and forcing you to share your bed with me…," Nobody looked away, "For everything, really."  
"Hey." Bucky's eyes softened and he reached out towards him. Then he caught himself and lowered his hand, "Don't be sorry. You're no trouble at all, and I don't mind sharing the bed."

Nobody looked up at Bucky.

"I just…" His voice died in His throat, "I just can't remember anything."

"Don't worry." Bucky smiled, "You'll figure it out. And I'll help you."

"Thanks Bucky."

"Alright, up and at 'em!" Nobody was shaken away at an ungodly hour. Bucky was leaning over him, his long hair pulled back, dressed in shorts and a hoodie. He looked at him confused,

"What time is it?" He asked.

"Five thirty in the morning, why?" Bucky asked, a bright smile on his face.

"With all due respect," Nobody buried his face in His pillow, "fuck off."

"Aw c'mon man." Bucky pulled the covers off of him, and Nobody's reflexes kicked in. He curled up in a ball to shield himself from the freezing air, although his body wasn't cold. Bucky poked him in the forehead, "Come on big guy, it's time for training!"

"Noooo…" Nobody whined. Bucky tried to tug the stranger off the bed,

"Come on get up!" the hero complained. With an unhappy sigh, Nobody sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes.

"I hate you." He grumbled, Bucky pouted.

"Okay, strength first." Bruce said, shivering in his many layers of clothes as they stood in the park, shrouded by mist.

"So what do you want me to do?" Nobody asked.

"I don't know," Bruce shrugged, "throw something."

"Can I throw Bucky?" Nobody asked. The man laughed,

"I'd like to see you try."

Without hesitation Nobody walked up to Bucky, grabbed him around his waist, and easily hauled him over his shoulder. Bucky let out a very manly squeak as Nobody effortlessly held the hero up. Everyone's jaws dropped open.

"Damn." Clint whistled.

"Put me down you brute!" Bucky yelled. Nobody smirked and dropped Bucky on his ass in the wet grass. The hero grumbled as he got to his feet.

"Well, strength ain't a problem then," Sam said with an approving nod, "How bout speed, big guy? Wanna race?"

"Sure." Nobody was feeling confident as he felt adrenaline pulse through his veins. This body was different and new but it had its purpose. He stood with Sam on the grass, Sam kneeling in the grass to give himself a better start. Clint counted to three and the two took off. Twelve seconds later Nobody had run the entire length of the park.

"Woah." Bucky breathed.

"That's insane." Clint admitted, and started clapping. Nobody smiled sheepishly, not even out of breath, as Sam returned, breathing hard.

"So he's like a super soldier."

"Yeah…" Bruce nodded, "He's like a Captain."

"Captain America," Bucky supplied.

"See, now you've got a name." Clint grinned.

Natasha found Tony curled up on his bed, head in his hands. The girl took a deep breath and sat down next to her friend, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"They'll find him," Natasha said. Tony shook his head desperately, sitting up,

"He's missing Nat. It's been almost three weeks. What if he's dead?" the boy asked. Natasha grabbed his face and forced him to look at her, her expression stubborn.

"Listen to me Stark, he's not dead. He's fine, he's just…" she faltered and let go of Tony's face, "…lost."

Just then Tony barged into the room and threw a newspaper at his two friends,

"There's another report." Natasha gave Thor a quizzical look and then opened the paper. On the front page there was a blurry picture of several men, in the midst of a battle. The redhead read aloud,

" _Captain America strikes again! Since the newest member joined the Avengers they've stopped more villains than ever! The Winter Solider, Hulk, Hawkeye and Falcon have always been our heroes, but who is the new addition? Captain America seems to have appeared out of thin air, on his way to save the world."_ Natasha snorted humourlessly, "This is such bullshit." She flipped through the newspaper to the back pages. There was a grainy, black and white picture of Steve at the back. _Steven Rogers, 17, from the Local Orphanage has still not been found. The Police is continuing the case, "_ That's it?!" Natasha yelled.

"They pay more attention to this new hero than to Steve," Tony grumbled. Thor collapsed on the bed, next to his friends.

"What do we do now?" he asked, defeated.

"We find that bloody address," Tony said, grabbing his laptop. Immediately multiple screens popped up, "That's where he went. I'm sure of it. This is our last shot."

Natasha and Thor leaned towards the screen, and watched in confusion as Tony zoomed through different pages, breaking codes and passwords. Eventually a plain black screen popped up, with the address written in Chinese.

"God bless my Asian friends," Tony grinned, going on some translating page and getting the address down. The three friends stared at the pink post it note that now sat innocently in Tony's lap.

"He has to be there." Natasha whispered, squeezing Tony's and Thor's hands, "He has to be."

"Alright, what are we waiting for then?" Thor asked, jumping up and pulling Natasha up with him.

"What? You want to go now?" The girl asked.

"He's been gone long enough," Thor rumbled. Lightning flashed outside as if to prove his point, "It's time to bring him home."

"Good work today, Cap." Sam grinned, putting a friendly arm around Captain America.

"Thanks," He beamed as the other superheroes filed into the apartment, "I think I'll hit the shower."

Captain America walked to his room, which was quite small as it used to be the laundry cupboard (Bruce promised they'll find him something better soon), and grabbed a clean towel, heading for the shower. He quickly stripped and stepped under the hot stream of water, feeling it work wonders on his tense muscles. Cap sighed quietly and leaned his forehead against the cold tiles of the shower wall. He was so tired.

None of his memories came back. None of them. As far as he could see nobody was looking for him, nobody was missing. Except that Steve boy. Cap ground his teeth together, thinking about how Bucky stayed up late ever night, surfing the internet for any news of where the kid could be. _Why is he so interested in him?_ Cap thought to himself angrily. He hated to admit it but he started to develop…he didn't know what to call it. Feelings? For Bucky. It seemed right, to call it that. Every time the other hero was around him, Cap's stomach would do a weird flip and his heart would skip a beat. It was so confusing, especially when Bucky was so interested in Steve that he didn't pay Cap any attention. Captain America hated all of it. He also felt like his time was running out for him, and he didn't know why. He woke up one night to find his hands covered in black marker, and the date over a week from now circled. It was like a deadline, but Cap didn't know what for. He just knew that on that day he was going to lose everything he built up during these three weeks. He was going to have to leave Bruce and Clint and Sam and Bucky…

Captain America took a shaky breath, feeling tears gather in his eyes. He just wanted to remember. Angrily, he washed himself and shut off the water. He wrapped a towel around his waist, and glanced at himself in the mirror. A stranger looked back at him, eyes rimmed with red. Cap watched as a tear rolled down the strangers face.

"Cap!" It was Bucky, knocking on the door, "How long are you gonna be?"

Captain America cleared his throat,

"J-Just a minute." He yelled, and his voice cracking. He cursed himself for showing weakness. There was a silence at the other side of the door and for a second Cap thought that Bucky had left, but he was wrong.

"Cap…" Bucky said quietly, hesitantly, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." Captain America said to his reflection, and then laughed, a little hysterically, "I'm perfectly fine." The last word ended with a sob.

"Cap. Open the door." Bucky said. Captain America did as he was told, and flipped the lock. Bucky stepped into the bathroom, and closed the door behind him. He took in the sight of the other boy, now crying helplessly.

"Oh Cap." Bucky murmured, pulling the hero into his arms. Captain America clung to him desperately, sobbing into his shoulder. Bucky struggled under his weight, trying to comfort the man, "It's going to be okay. You're going to be okay."

"N-No I'm not…" Captain America whispered helplessly, "I…I can't r-remember anything."

"You don't have to remember." Bucky said, "You can make new memories. With us…with me."

"But you'll never feel the same way." Captain America said so quietly, Bucky almost didn't catch it.

"What-"

The doorbell rang, and Captain America pulled away from Bucky, hastily wiping his eyes.

"You…um…you should probably answer that," He said, blushing, and grabbing his t-shirt. Bucky nodded and walked to the door, opening it. Outside stood three teenagers, a girl and two boys and…wait a minute.

"I know you." Bucky blurted. The girl raised an eyebrow, the two boys crossing their arms on either side of her, like bouncers.

"Well I don't know you." The girl said, narrowing her eyes, studying him.

"Who are you?" Bucky asked, blocking the door.

"That's none of your business," the smaller boy next to her snapped,

"We're looking for a friend." The boy with the blonde hair explained.

"Name?" Bucky asked, heart thumping loudly, although he knew what they would say.

"Steven Rogers." The girl said, and her voice faltered. For a second there was pain in her eyes, and then her face turned expressionless again.

"Don't know him. He's not here." Bucky said, throat tight.

The two boys exchanged a desperate look, and Bucky suddenly felt sorry for them. They were only kids, looking for a missing friend.

"Do you want to come in?" the hero asked. The girl shrugged,

"Yeah, sure. Why not." She said, defeated. Bucky led them into the living room and the three collapsed onto the couches.

"I'm Tony," the smaller boy introduced himself, "This is Thor and Natasha."

"We know," Thor said, "You're the Winter Soldier." Bucky tensed, wondering where the rest of the Avengers were.

"How do you know?" He asked, arms flexing.

"Steve. He…he told us about you."

"More like we forced him to." Tony interrupted. Natasha glared at him,

"He wanted to find you because he has this massive crush on you…" Thor started.

" _Thor_!" Natasha and Tony yelled. Something warm bloomed in Bucky's heart,

"He liked me?" he asked breathlessly.

"He _likes_ you," Natasha said, expression hardening, "Don't talk about him in past tense."

"Anyway," Tony continued, "Because I'm amazing, I found your address online. Then we went into the city and everything was okay, we were eating McDonald's like normal teenagers and Steve said he had to sort something out. He never came back."

"So we obviously thought he might be here," Thor finished lamely. Bucky gave looked at them, a pained expression on his face.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "he's not here."

Natasha got to her feet, eyes glistening with tears.

"Thanks for your help," she said, "we'll go look somewhere else."

"Nat." Tony said, he sounded _so_ tired.

"No Tony." Natasha cut him off harshly, "We're going to go look for him. He's fine, he's not dead. He can't be. I won't accept that he's dead," the girl was clearly panicking now, "He's lost or…or I don't know, in a hospital somewhere, you know how bad his asthma gets. Maybe, m-maybe something happened." Tony got up, softly saying the girls name. He reached towards her but she jerked away, "Goddammit Tony!" she yelled, "Why are you acting like he's dead? He's not! He's fine! He's fine! I'll find him, I promised to take care of him, he's my best friend I'm not going to lose him!" Tony grabbed Natasha and pulled her into his arms. She broke down, sobbing uncontrollably into his shoulder.

"We're going to go now," Thor said, smiling apologetically at Bucky, "Sorry for the trouble."

"What's all this ruckus?" Captain America asked, stepping out of the bathroom.

"Don't worry." Bucky muttered, but Natasha's eyes were already on the blonde.

"You!" she yelled, "You! You came out of nowhere. You appeared when Steve disappeared!" she took a step towards Captain America, who backed away even though Natasha was much smaller than him, as if it was an instinct, "You know something! Where is he?!"

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Captain America lifted his hands up, in surrender. Natasha lunged at him and grabbed his shirt in her hand, yanking him forward with a surge of strength. She raised a fist to punch him, and as Captain America flinched and Bucky yelled 'Stop!,' she froze.

"Steve?" she asked softly. Captain America blinked at her,

"Um…no?" he offered. She let go of him and stepped back, staring at him with wide eyes. He hands flew to her mouth and she shook her head,

"It's you. It's you." She was muttering. Tony came to stand beside her,

"Nat, this isn't Steve," he said, pulling her away.

"But it is!" Natasha fought Tony off, "Look at him! It's him just in a different body!"

" _Natasha_." Tony hissed, "Enough."

"Tony! Just listen! He appeared out of nowhere, same time as Steve disappeared, he has his fucking _face_!" Natasha turned to Captain America, staring at him pleadingly, "Steve, please!"

"I can't remember anything." Captain America whispered, "I can't remember anything…"

Tony finally let go of Natasha and she stood there, breathing hard. Thor and Bucky watched the events unfold, confused. Clint, Bruce and Sam came inside, holding grocery bags. Bruce dropped his bags,

"Who's that?" he asked, staring right at Natasha.

"They're here about Steve," Bucky said, mouth dry, "they think Cap could be him."

"That's ridiculous." Clint snorted.

Everyone looked at Captain America.

"I-I don't _know_." He whispered. Bucky was by him in seconds, a comforting hand on his shoulder,

"It's alright, Cap." He said, "Just _try_ to remember."

Captain America focused on the pieces of familiarity that he remembered, and tried to remember something, anything…

 _A black door with a number on it – 6._

His eyes widened,

"I don't have any answers," he said, "but I know who might."

Bucky, Captain America, Bruce, Clint, Sam, Natasha, Thor and Tony all stood in front of the black door. Somehow Cap figured out where he woke up and lead the group there. Now they all stood, unsure.

"So do we…knock?" Sam asked. Captain America shook his head,

"Follow me." He said, and pushed the door open. The Captain descended down a familiar, narrow staircase, and somehow it was harder to fit than the last time. He wondered why. This place – it felt familiar. The smell of rotten fruit and perfume tingling his senses.

"Ew I just touched something gross." Tony said somewhere behind him. Captain America ignored him as he now stood in a pristine corridor. He walked to the door at the end and it swung open in front of him. The Avengers filed into the empty room, eyes wide with awe. The chair at the end of the bridge was empty.

The metal door swung closed behind them just as Sam stepped inside.

"What the hell is this place?" Bruce asked no one in particular. Then a voice rang out,

"Steven Rogers. Came to admit defeat a day early?"

"What the-" Bucky started, and then a woman appeared in front of them. Her eyes were all black.

"And you brought friends," she cocked her head to the side, studying the Avengers with a smile.

"Who are you?" Bucky asked, stepping in front of Captain America protectively,

"I'm Jean Gray." The woman introduced herself, "and I am a wish giver."

"What did you do to Steve?" Thor rumbled. Jean Gray laughed,

"I only gave him what he wanted," she said, looking at Captain America, "he wanted to be strong and I made him strong. For a price of course. His memories."

"Well I want them back." Captain America demanded, "you can take the strength." Jean Gray tutted,

"That's not how it works, Steve." Jean smirked, "and you didn't hold up your end of the deal."

"I can't even remember what I was meant to do." Cap said, "so please, just give me my memories back."

"I don't like an audience." Jean Gray said, and with a flick of her hand, the Avengers crumpled to the ground. All except Bucky.

"No!" Captain America shouted.

"Calm down," Jean Gray rolled her eyes, "they're just sleeping."

"Why are you doing this?!" Bucky asked. Jean Gray regarded him coldly.

"My magic didn't work on you. Hmm, well never mind." She waved a hand in the air, "now Steve, we will just wait until the sun rises and then you will be my slave forever."

Captain America looked at Bucky helplessly,

"Can't you at least tell me what I signed up for?"

"I can show you," Jean said. She clicked her fingers and a slight breeze blew. Jean turned to the staircase, and Captain America watched as Steve walked down hesitantly. The memory was slightly hazy, but Captain America could see Steve clearly as he walked inside Jean's lair.

"Steve." Bucky breathed and reached towards the boy. His hand passed through the memory.

"How lovely to see you, Steven Rogers," Jean Gray said, ignoring Captain America and Bucky.

"W-who are you?" Steve asked nervously, glancing around. The two men watched at the memory of Steve and Jean Gray spoke, how the witch taunted him, told him he wasn't good enough, that he couldn't save his mother. The memory sparked something inside Captain America and he listened to Jean say the terms of their agreement.

"You will become a hero, but your memories will be taken away. The good, the bad. The beautiful, the ugly, all of them. You won't remember your name, who you were, who you are. And you will have three weeks to seek out the Winter Soldier, and make him fall in love with you. If you fail you will return to this state of body, and you shall serve me as a slave. Do you agree?"

Captain America wanted to scream at Steve – to tell him to say no, that this wasn't the right choice. He wanted to tell him how lonely he'd feel, how confused. He wanted to tell him to turn back and return to his friends. But it was too late.

"Yes." Steve whispered and Captain America watched in horror as Steve's tiny body grew into…him. Jean Gray cackled, the scene disappeared and Captain America's memories flooded back.

 _He stood at a window in a destroyed house, his tiny hands clutching the windowsill._

" _Steve you alright?" Natasha asked, placing a warm hand on his shoulder. She was his best friend, she was always there for him. How could he have forgotten?_

" _I'm fine Nat," He lied._

 _It was cold outside, and dark. He was crouched next to a man on the floor. The man was pale and bleeding._

" _I-um…James…" Steve started._

" _Bucky. Call me Bucky."_

 _He was in a familiar room, with two messy, unmade beds._

" _You have to go!" Steve whispered to Bucky, hearing noises down the corridor._

" _Thanks," Bucky said. Then he pulled Steve to him and quickly placed a kiss on his forehead._

Steve's eyes fluttered opened and he saw Bucky's worried face above him. The hero cracked a smile,

"Oh thank God, I thought you wouldn't wake up." Bucky said. Steve realized his head was in Bucky's lap.

"I remembered." He whispered. Bucky grinned and brushed some of Steve's hair out of his face.

"That's good."

"How long do we have left?" Steve asked, sitting up. His muscular arms felt heavy and useless now.

"Half an hour until sunrise." Bucky said quietly. Jean Gray was walking around, humming to herself and preparing some potions and mixtures.

"What then?" Steve asked.

"She said that they all wake up," Bucky pointed to their sleeping friends, "and we get teleported outside. With no memory of you."

Steve smiled sadly,

"Maybe that's better." He said, "At least you won't miss me."

"No. I don't want to forget you." Bucky said. Steve opened his mouth to say something but then Jean Gray appeared in front of him.

"Let's get you all ready, Steven," she said, smiling creepily, "say goodbye to your friend here."

The two boys stood up and Bucky stepped in front of Steve.

"You're not gonna take him." He sounded so confident, like he actually believed he could keep Steve safe from this witch.

"Don't try me, _boy_." Jean Gray hissed, using her magic she pulled Steve towards her. "It's too late for that now."

"No!" Bucky grabbed Steve's hand, and pulled him back, "You can't take him away from me! You _can't_." He said desperately, "I need him. You can't take him, I won't let you. He's mine now and I'll take care of him so you can find yourself someone else to be your slave, because he's staying with me!"

"Your words mean nothing," Jean Gray spat, "when the sun rises he will be bound to me and you will forget all about him."

Steve suddenly wrapped his arms around Bucky, pulling him into a hug.

"It's okay, Buck," he whispered, "just let me go. It'll be fine."

"N-no…" Bucky held onto Steve, "I can't."

"You have to."

"Let the boy go," Jean Gray commanded. Bucky felt Steve being ripped away from him. The boy stood next to the witch, his eyes filled with despair, "A few minutes and it'll all be over, and you will forget all about this."

"You can't!" Bucky yelled, " _I love him_!"

Steve's and Jean's eyes widened.

"L-Liar." Jean said, a crack appearing on her porcelain skin, "you're lying."

"No." Bucky's eyes met Steve's, "I'm not lying. I love you."

Steve smiled suddenly, and his smile lit up the room.

"I love you too."

"NO!" Jean screamed, but she couldn't do anything. Steve ran across the to Bucky, just as the Avengers woke. The whole room started to shake, stones and bricks raining from the ceiling.

"What the hell?" Thor yelled.

"Bruce, transform!" Clint told Bruce. The man nodded and his body expanded, turning green. He grabbed Bucky and Steve with one massive hand, and covered all the Avengers with his body. Jean Gray screamed as he lair crumbled around them. Bucky squeezed his eyes shut, holding onto Steve. The other boy buried his face in Bucky's shoulder.

Everything went dark as there was a roar and the room fell. Bruce rumbled, but continued shielding his friends. Finally everything stilled and the man stepped back, shrinking back to his normal size. The air was filled with dust and everyone started coughing. Bucky realized that Steve was no longer in his arms.

"Steve?!" he asked, panicking.

"Right here." Steve said standing up, and brushing dust off his shirt. He was tiny again, reaching Bucky's shoulder. A smile blossomed on Bucky's face but then Steve started coughing desperately, doubling over.

"Steve! Steve!" Bucky grabbed the boy, who was struggling for breath.

"His asthma!" Natasha yelled. She dug in her backpack and brought out an inhaler, "A spare one." She said, crouching down next to Bucky and Steve. She pushed the device into Steve's mouth with practiced moves, and then pressed the pump three times. Bucky watched with concern as Steve's tiny chest contracted. When Natasha pulled the inhaler away, he was breathing by himself again.

"What the hell happened?" Natasha asked, looking up at the sky, which was turning from navy to grey as the first of the sun peeked from between the houses.

Bucky ignored her question, gathered Steve up in his arms and hugged him tight,

"God you scared me." He whispered to the boy. Natasha got up and herded the rest of the Avengers away to give Bucky and Steve some space.

"I'm sorry," Steve muttered, and then coughed once. He winced, "Old body. Great."

Bucky laughed and stood up, pulling Steve up easily. Steve smiled shyly,

"Well I like you like this," Bucky said, stepping closer to the boy. He reached down and intertwined his hands with Steve's. The smaller boy looked down and blushed. Bucky tugged him closer, wrapping his arms around Steve's waist. The blonde reached up and interlocked his arms around Bucky's neck. They pressed their foreheads together, and stared at each other for a minute.

"Why did you do it?" Bucky asked quietly. Steve shrugged,

"I just wanted to be brave and strong to protect my friends."

"But you are," Bucky whispered, "You're so brave."

Before Steve could protest, Bucky leaned down and pressed their lips together. Steve gasped and Bucky smiled into the kiss. He kept it slow and soft, and pulled away after a few seconds so Steve wouldn't have another asthma attack.

"Bucky-" Steve started, but Bucky silenced him by pressing butterfly kisses down his face. He kissed Steve's forehead and the tip of his nose and then briefly pressed his lips against his again. This time Steve kissed back with passion and then suddenly there was tounge and-

"Hold your horses!" Natasha's voice broke through the haze that clouded Steve's mind. Bucky chuckled as Steve pulled away and lunged himself at his best friend. Natasha caught him easily, and then wrapped her arms around him tightly. There were tears in her eyes.

"I missed you so much." She whispered, voice wavering.

"Me too Nat, me too." Steve said.

 **6 months Later**

"Aw goddamn." Clint swore, chucking his controller across the room. Natasha cackled evilly next to him.

"I win. _Again_." She said, punching Clint in the arm. Bruce watched them with a dark expression.

"Aw Brucey," Clint wiggled his eyebrows, "If you wanna spend time with Nat I will gladly make space for you."  
Thor chocked on his chocolate milk and started coughing.

"I…I don't…" Bruce started, burning red. Natasha was also blushing.

"Oh my God, just go play the damn game," Clint rolled his eyes and passed Bruce his controlled. Sam walked in through the front door, dropping the groceries on the floor,

"Man that's heavy," He wheezed, "Who wanted four packets of coffee?!"

"Me!" Tony popped up from the basement, and began rummaging through the bags.

"What you working on?" Sam asked.

"This thing called Ultron," Tony grumbled, a cookie in his mouth and coffee in his arms.

"Tony, _no_." Bruce said from the couch.

"Tony, _yes_!" Tony said, eyes twinkling excitedly. Just then the front door burst open and Steve and Bucky tumbled in, making out, hands in each other's hair. Everyone froze and Steve pulled away for 0.2 seconds,

"I, um…we'll be in our room…," he managed to say, breathing hard, and then Bucky swooped him up into his arms, and practically ran to their room, clothes falling everywhere in the process. The Avengers stared at each other in shock, and then Thor burst out laughing.

"So the date went well, yes?"


End file.
